“All right, all right. You're right, I'm sorry.” I peered into my drinkless glass and brought it up to my lips, letting the ice cubes slosh down along toward my lips, hoping for a small trickle of liquid to still remain in order to quench my parched gullet.
There was indeed a very thin trickle, but it was just water, melted ice at this point, and it did next to nothing whatsoever in terms of satisfying me. I sat my glass back down onto the bar and thought for a moment, sighing heavily until an idea occurred to me.
“How about this,” I proposed. Derrick turned to me attentively. “How about if we just sit and wait for a while and see who else comes in, and you can try to look for someone who would work for you instead of me pointing out a bunch of guys at random. And then we can see if we agree on things from there.”
Derrick turned away for a moment, mulling this over, I could tell, and then turned back to me, smiling slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think that might work, babe. Thank you.” And at this he leaned in and kissed me on my forehead, a very sweet gesture, but one which did little, if anything, to mitigate my irritation. I forced a smile all the same, my cheeks actually straining with the effort for the duration of his eyes being pointed in my direction.
When at last he turned away again to continue scouting, that forced smile converted pretty damn quickly into a slight scowl of distaste, and I looked over at the bartender, holding up two fingers to signal a request for a refill.
Then, however, I looked back over at Derrick, and my feelings once again softened immensely. I couldn't be mad at the poor bastard. That poor, beautiful bastard. I knew he was going the extra mile for me, and far, far past that, really, if I was brutally honest about it. Not every man would suffer so easily being asked the request that I'd put upon him, much less actually going about trying to indulge it.
He was, I knew, completely in the right in his hesitance, and my impatience was prompted solely by my nervousness and insecurity.
Our refilled drinks soon arrived, and I took a long, deep swig of alcohol, letting it soothe my nerves to an extent, and trying to reflect on how very lucky I was to have him, rather than on how ridiculously nervous the prospect of actually going through with this was making me.
Derrick. That beautiful, beautiful bastard.
The two of us had been dating for, well, I don't know. It had sort of been on and off at first, so neither of us had ever really kept track of the relationship's extent. The two of us had met during college, at a party if I remember right, and things had gone quite fluidly between the two of us from the get go.
And by that, I mean, there was of course alcohol involved at the event we were attending, and that made our initial introduction a fairly inhibition-free event as far as that was concerned. My initial impression of him, one brought into being by the alcohol, I'm quite certain, was that Derrick was the funniest man alive, charming and suave and quick on his feet. And of course, the alcohol aided him in making him so as well, so there was definitely inebriation to blame for the initial kindling of sparks on both of our parts, to say the least.
Well, suffice it to say, after so much time of the two of us flirting like teenagers in the middle of the crowded room, the escalation of romance wasn't that far behind at all. Before I knew it, I had my very first taste of beautiful, bastard lips, almost before I could think to realize it. His mouth dissolved onto mine in a hot, liquid stream, the two of us melding into a beautiful alloy of flesh against flesh, tongue against tongue, his flavor immaculate, unlike anything I'd ever before had the pleasure of consuming.
And not that this really matters all that much, but I should point out that I was not the sort of girl to operate on that quick of a basis. I didn't routinely jump into the sack with strangers just on virtue of them being cute or seeming like a promising catch, and though I very much embraced physicality and sensuality and eroticism, on any number of levels, really, it was still completely unusual for me to jump the gun with a man this quickly in a “relationship.”
I think, deep down, I somehow intuited from the very beginning that Derrick was going to be different for me and my life. I wasn't going to be just another notch on his bedpost, and this wasn't going to be a simple flash in the pan sort of deal that was over just as quickly as it had begun.
As my nostrils flared with the struggle for breath against his lips, and as his hands took their first gentle sweeps against my body, feeling me up and getting their first impressions of my hot, heaving anatomy, I somehow felt safer, more secure with this man than could really be said to have been true with any of the other guys I'd dated in the past, and for the life of me, I couldn't seem to put my finger on precisely just why that was.
At any rate, though, in almost no time I was being swept back into his dorm room with him, the two of us making out so dizzily almost the entire way that it seemed a miracle that we didn't outright crash into something on the path.
But somehow, miraculously, we made it inside, sliding a sock onto the door handle and locking ourselves securely away inside for the night. At this point, I was so damn worked up by this man that I couldn't stand it, and I thought I might burst on the spot if our quick and sudden love wasn't consummated in as timely a manner as possible.
I allowed myself to be pinned up against the wall, held there with his throbbing erection stabbing into me through the denim of his jeans, his hands on my ass as he squeezed me into himself, and our tongues once again jousting and twisting and lapping into one another's trembling mouths. I moaned, and whimpered, and actually swooned at the beauty of his efforts, and when his kisses came sliding from my lips to the side of my neck, I seriously thought I might go dissolving into a puddle on the spot.
Instead, though, I somehow managed to work up the willpower to reach down and begin to peel slowly, slowly, slowly out of my shirt, the fabric melting up over my head like a snake shedding its skin, my writhing body working its way free, until at last my chest was heaving at my beautiful sexpot of a lover through the cups of my bra.
He leaned in, and began to put his lips on me immediately, sliding his tongue through my cleavage, lapping up the perspiration trickling its way down along me, and causing me to moan, to tremble unabashedly with delight at his touch, at the sensations shooting wildly through my body, and driving me absolutely wild.
He reached behind me, undoing the clasp of my bra with fingers that were plainly a bit nervous, yet quite clearly competent all the while. He slid the straps down along my arms, sliding me out of the cups, and then pressed his lips onto my exposed tits. I moaned as he kissed my nipples, suckling on me like a newborn and sinking his teeth tenderly into me, driving me absolutely wild with lust, and my ability to resist him further diminishing as the moments slipped by—not that I would have wanted to anyway, really.
When he'd ravished me to the extent I could bear, he stepped back, examining my wet breasts and my taut, heaving abdomen, and deciding, apparently, that it was only fair to even the playing field just the least bit. My eyes went wide as I witnessed him melting out of his own tight, wet t-shirt, the dank, scorching fabric blazing from off of his form, and revealing to me a body that was as sumptuous as anything I could have possibly hoped to imagine under there.
It was clear, from the first glance, that Derrick was a fitness buff, and that was one thing about him I wouldn't begin to take issue with it. My mouth, not to mention other parts of me, began to water at the sight of his broad, heaving pecs, the washboard ripples of his six-pack abdominals, and a set of swooping, agonizing Adonis muscles sinking down along his anatomy, bringing my eyes, in the fashion of an arrow to the crotch of his jeans.
Here, I couldn't avoid noticing for the life of me, a fat, swollen lump rested in anticipation for me, an engorged erection so hot and so throbbing that I could practically feel its presence from across the room, and it caused my cheeks to go hot and red, and my body to wither with desire right there on the spot.
The next thing I knew, I was being carried over to his bed, my body spl
ayed out across the mattress, and my breasts heaving all the while as I anticipated my own destruction. I quivered, my very insides trembling, as he put his hands on the fly of my own tight jeans and unbuttoned them, pulling down the zipper, and bringing his hands back up to the waistline.
He peeled them down, down, down along my body, sliding the tight fabric from my anatomy with some degree of effort, and unintentionally yanking my panties partly down off of me in the process, revealing a bit of the exposed swath of my pubic triangle, and the bones in my hips, which popped up at him through my flesh in an agonizing fashion.
He lowered his body onto me, my head lighter than air at this point, and he began to absolutely ply me with kisses. His lips melted and dissolved all over my flesh, sinking from my lips, to my neck, down to along my clavicle, his tongue running across the thing as though sealing up an envelope. He suckled once more on my breasts, then, but this time slid his fingers beneath the lace of my panties as he did so.
His fingers came dangerously close to my pussy as they raked and tickled and swept against my flesh, dredging the fabric up and down, up and down, up and down, teasing me like hell, but never quite indulging me just yet.
And down, down, down he fell, his lips on my navel, slurping on me and rolling his tongue around into my belly button, sending such a shock of sensations through my anatomy that I couldn't stand it. The cheeks of my ass clenched involuntarily, then, pulling the fabric of the panties deeper up into me, and making his removal of the things when at last he arrived down there a remarkable difficult feat.
I giggled at him as he struggled with the things, and at last gave in and allowed them to be removed, my naked body now presented to him, and trembling head to toe with anticipation for just what he might have in store for me.
His hands swept across the tender insides of my thighs, pushing them apart, and I gasped as I felt the hot, wet meat of his tongue pressing down up against my mons pubis, lapping me up, and making me burn so terribly that tears actually began to form in the corners of my eyes. If it hadn't been for the evening's previous primal connection to him, the fact that a man was willing to go down on you on the first date should have been sign enough that you'd found an almost perfect guy.
I braced myself as he buried his face in my pussy, slicing his tongue inside me and twisting through the wet, pink meat. I moaned, and began to arch my spine, as the sensations began to course through me in torrents, sweeping through my anatomy and causing my vision to blur horribly. I closed my eyes, struggling to compose myself to some small degree or another, but my head was spinning so absurdly at this point that I didn't really believe I could ever get it to slow down again.
Derrick's sweet, beautiful face bobbed steadily up against my pussy, the squelching of his tongue against my cunt driving me wild as he absorbed my tender flavor, and the additional application of his fingers up against my clitoris getting me so damn hot for him that I thought I might explode.
And then, God help me, I did begin to explode, all over the place, my body lighting up with such a furious orgasm that my convulsions caused the bed to rattle, and that my screams must have been loud enough to wake the damn dead. Stars flashed across my eyes and sweat poured along my skin in torrents, every nerve in me frayed and sizzling with delight, and the moments ticking by with agonizing slowness as I slowly, slowly, slowly drifted back down.
At last, I came to my senses, and by this point the animal in me was so fully formed and irrepressible that there was absolutely no stopping me. I tore Derrick out of his jeans and ripped him out of his boxer shorts, whipping his long, hot cock out into the open and immediately beginning to service him, sliding the thing through my fingers and smashing my grip almost violently into his pelvis. He grunted with satisfaction at this, and I began to climb up on top of him, straddling him on the bed, and sitting down on top of his erection.
I loved being stretched out by him as he pushed through the tingling meat of my pussy, inch by inch by inch of his immensity becoming wholly absorbed inside me, until at last I'd consumed him fully, and could feel him touch down inside the deepest, wettest, tightest fathoms of my anatomy.
I began to dance, to gyrate, to twitch on top of him, grinding my pelvis forward and back, forward and back, forward and back against his own, his cock spanning through my insides, shifting and distorting me, getting me worked up as hell as the sensations ripped through my anatomy.
“Oh God yes, oh God yes, oh Goddddd,” I moaned, and proceeded to bounce up and down on top of him like a damn pogo stick, jackhammering and smashing like mad into his anatomy, driving that cock as deep up into me as I could get it, so far and so deep that it nearly got me cross-eyed with sweet, dizzy pleasure.
And at last, a final, abrupt pounding into his body, holding myself in place with his erection carving deep, deep into me, and the sensations tearing through both of us like wild. He came inside me, filling me up with his essence, and once again, I went shooting through the roof of climax, every nerve in my body electrified, and my love for this man erupting right there on the spot.
And from then on out, it was all just history. The two of us knew that we'd found something remarkable in one another, and that the connection we'd established was something that was most definitely worth holding onto.
That isn't to say, exactly, that things were without their hitches. Particularly at first, there were quite a few obstacles to work around, obstacles that were responsible for the “on and off” status of our relationship that I referred to earlier on. If it had just been up to us, the whole thing would have been peaches and cream, and we would have been perfectly content in one another's company without even a thought of things being different.
But, for one thing, when we weren't in college, the two of us lived in completely different states, which made keeping what we had alive outside the confines of the university campus a difficult feat to say the least. For his part, he had a job lined up for after graduation that would take him into a city halfway across the country, and I personally had no earthly idea what the hell I should be doing once the ink was dry on my diploma, and all that was left was to pay of my horrendous accumulation of student loans.
As unbelievably good as it may have seemed for the duration it lasted, it seemed impractical to try and continue what the two of us shared after college was over. This was the real world after all, not a fairy tale, and the two of us both knew that. We might have had a tremendous emotional connection, and we might have given one another the best sex of either of our lives, but it was just hard to reconcile our life plans with one another.
And so it was that we, at least temporarily, ended the relationship amicably, having bittersweet breakup sex one final time, fucking so hard that we nearly broke the bed, and then going our separate ways for the next several months.
Derrick went and did his thing in the city, and I decided, in my lost state, to take a much different route, volunteering overseas, claiming it as resume experience even if it was mostly just distraction from my aimlessness in life.
The two of us each saw other people for a while, thinking that what we'd shared in the past had been exhausted, and that it was best left buried behind us. That sure as hell didn't prevent me from thinking about our time together, though, and occasionally I would hear from him, either through social media or, very rarely, in an e-mail.
It was during a plane trip back to the United States, I think, that it really began to sink in that, as lost as I had felt for so very long, Derrick had been one of the few things in my life I'd ever been sure about, even if it had only been for that short and glorious period of time.
And it occurred to me, then, that there was no good reason for me to have deprived myself of the person I loved. I had told myself that it wouldn't worked despite there being no real basis for this notion, when all the while I could quite reasonably have made it work, given my desire for it.
I mean, hell. I was young. I had plenty of time in life. I needed to take this risk, to gi
ve love a chance, and to fling myself back into Derrick's arms on the off-chance he would take me.
And he did. He sure as hell did, very gladly, seeming as though our separation had been every bit as painful for him as it had been for me.
And once the two of us got back together, things had really begun to stick, our lives granted the spice and the excitement we'd been missing for so very long, and the connection seeming like it would genuinely last this time around.
To bring things back around to where this whole story began, then, suffice it to say that our sex life was a force unto itself as the years of our relationship rolled by. Once the two of us moved in together, the two of us were at each other practically every night, insatiable, you might even say, unable to get enough of one another no matter how hard we tried, and the two of us routinely pushing our limits to involve as many sweet, depraved activities in the bedroom as possible.
I'm talking, really, all sorts of crazy stuff. The two of us were, for the most part, a very unassuming couple when it came to the perception of those around us, but we secretly engaged in far more seedy kinks than you could possibly think to shake a stick at.
I'm talking toys, sex manuals, some of the dirtiest positions you can possibly imagine, oral and anal, and every damn thing in between. The two of us even had a sex swing installed in our bedroom, which we put to terribly good use on a number of occasions, engaging in mind-blowing acts of brutal intercourse that nearly make me blush just thinking about them.
But the matter of our birthdays was another issue entirely. The two of us, once a year, permitted one another to indulge in our deepest, seediest fantasies together, anything at all, no matter how crazy or out there it was, just as long as both of us were comfortable enough with it. These were things that were almost more like experiments for us than anything, things we'd fantasized about on occasion but thought might be pushing the limits to actually go about giving it a shot.
Double Obsessions Page 21
